


I Didn't Mean to, but I Did.

by AsteroidMiyoko



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-11 11:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20153089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsteroidMiyoko/pseuds/AsteroidMiyoko
Summary: Whirl agrees to a casual merge with Cyclonus and Tailgate because, hey, why not.Only, it goes a little differently than he was expecting, and he might have, sort of, accidentally...bonded with them.





	1. Chapter 1

Spark-merging was serious business, or so everyone said; something only done between conjunx or amica, or those practically to that point in their relationships. No one would ever do it casually.

Which was _conveniently_ inconvenient for mechs who'd undergone the empurata procedure.

But Whirl had his doubts about the sanctity of it all.

Doubts backed up by a fair amount of experience with mechs who apparently didn't care about the lack of array or if Whirl had any feelings towards them, or even if he remembered their name in the morning, so long as he was willing to crack open his chest.

Which is why the particular situation he found himself in one night in Tailgate and Cyclonus' hab was a little unnerving. Oh it was enjoyable, to be sure, who wouldn't enjoy Tailgate's small digits dipping into all sorts of previously ignored places, or Cyclonus' quiet growl into the crook of his neck. The two menaces had gotten pretty damn well acquainted with Whirl's frame over the past few months. It wasn't out of the ordinary for the three of them to spend a little time at Swerve's and then traipse back to one of their habs for some one-on-one time. Or rather, one-on-two. Two-on-two?

Anyway. Back to the problem at hand.

Tailgate pulled back from his skillful ministrations to whisper something to Cyclonus over their private comms. Whirl could tell because Tailgate hadn't broken himself of the habit of turning his helm to the person he was talking to. Adorable weirdo. Cyclonus' optics brightened just a fraction, and then he nodded.

"Out loud, beloved." he murmured, fondly.

"Oh yeah, heh." Tailgate turned to Whirl, cradling his helm in tiny white servos, visor bright. "Whirly-bird, want to merge with us? We'd really like it if you did."

_Wait, what?_

Whirl cleared his vocoder, and reset his optic for good measure. "You sure about that, TG, I mean…"

_Didn't think you guys were into casual merging._

Another servo, a heavy grey one, landed on Whirl's shoulder. "We are certain." Cyclonus said, in a tone that was somehow kind and yet booked no argument.

_Huh._

"Well," Whirl said, trying for teasing and somehow feeling like he was landing kilometers off, "I'm not gonna turn down the two cutest mechs on the ship."

With a happy "woop!" Tailgate launched himself back at Whirl, pushing him back against the berth, and the copter laughed, allowing himself to be mechhandled. The minibot nuzzled Whirl's cockpit, going so far as to make little kissing noises with his vocoder as he pressed his faceplate against him. Cyclonus settled on his side next to them, sidling up close and wrapping an arm tightly around Whirl's waist, dragging his lips across his helm. Whirl exvented and allowed his optic to unfocus, the panels of the ceiling bluring into a vast swath of silvery grey.

"I'll start." Tailgate announced, leaning up and sitting back so that he straddled Whirl just under his cockpit.

He grabbed one of Cyclonus' servos, and one of Whirl's claws, and made a little relaxed noise. And then, a quiet click accompanied the sudden wash of blue light that filled the area between them.

Whirl craned his neck up to get a closer look. It was beautiful. Sparks were always beautiful, but this-

And then the light grew brighter as Cyclonus opened his own plating. Whirl's helm snapped to the side quickly enough that he felt a twinge as he gazed at the jet's spark. Dammit, it was beautiful too.

They were going to be disappointed.

Tailgate gazed at him expectantly, so with one last vent to settle himself, Whirl sent the command for his chest plates to recede. The mechanism to fold them back was complicated, his spark sitting in the normal place in his chest, but the cockpit extending futher than normal, and it felt like it took forever for the process to complete. Finally, the inner cover of his spark swirled open.

He thought he heard a voice over the wooshing of his own energon, but it didn't make any sense.

"Whirl, you're so pretty!"

Before he could protest the obviously incorrect statement, a servo traced the edge of his spark chamber, and he lurched into a sitting position with a gasp. Well _that_ was new.

"Slowly." Cyclonus warned, sitting up as well, though it looked like he was expending considerable control to keep his own servos to himself.

"Sorry, sorry!" Tailgate said, quickly drawing back, "I should have ask-"

_No no no, not "sorry!"_

"Do that again right now!" Whirl choked out. "Both of you."

Thank Primus they did, and enthusiastically too.

It was all Whirl could do to stay online as gentle digits dipped into the corona of his spark, teasing and caressing. With a groan, he leaned forward, allowing them to support his weight, the heat from the other two frames enveloping him like so many meshes. At one point, Cyclonus pulled away only to curl in to press his lips to the very center of the spark, and Whirl had to lock his joints in order for his limbs not to fly out in some random direction.

"I should…" he warbled.

He reached up a shaky claw in the vague direction of Cyclonus's spark, but it was gently redirected to rest on the jet's hip plate instead. Whirl absolutely didn't whine.

"Not now, my love. Let us take care of you." Cyclonus' soft voice said.

_Well that didn't sound too bad…but hang on, "love"???_

Worry over that particular turn of phrase evaporated in an instant as the close proximity of Whirl's spark to theirs caused little tendrils to start reaching out. Embarrasingly, Whirl found himself clutching their plating with both claws, almost hard enough to dent as he swallowed a staticy shout. With a bit of effort, Tailgate nudged Whirl until he was looking him in the optic. He looked…overwhelemed too, thank goodness.

"See, Cyc! He really does want us!"

_Well, obviously, I'm here, aren't I?_

"Whirl, is it ok if we…" he trailed off, but Whirl got the jist of what he meant as he angled his chest towards him.

_Absolutely, yes, do it._

"Do it, Legs, whatever you want, I'm down."

Tailgate's visor somehow brightened further, and a corresponding growl from Cyclonus' engine went straight into Whirl's frame as they began the slightly tricky manouvre of aligning all of their sparks. It took a couple of tries to get it right, but when they did-

Whirl had absolutely no control over the moan that escaped his vocoder that time. Pulses from the sparks attached to his surged through his frame, faster and faster until-

_He was flying over Tetrahex, young, and free, and fast for the utter joy of it_

_And he was coming online for the first time, given a job and a box of supplies to do it_

_And he was watching the news, wondering what would happen to his home_

_And he was laughing with his coworkers, his friends, dreaming about a new world_

_And he was stuck, following someone he shouldn't have, lost in a vast emptiness_

_And he was trapped, crawling slowly towards something he hoped would help_

_Time seemed to speed up, and then he was in Swerve's, looking across the table at himself, happy, but not quite content._

_Wait. Wait, I don't understand, this isn't like the other times!_

All of a sudden, he could see Tailgate and Cyclonus standing in some hazy place. They were smiling, and holding out their servos to him, and Whirl knew he shouldn't take them, but he did anyway because his spark was moving his claws for him.

"It feels good." his spark said, "To want, and be wanted."

* * *

When Whirl swam back to the surface, he was flat on his back, Tailgate tangled around him with every limb, wet face plate pressed tight against his shoulder, and Cyclonus was on his right side, arms around both of them and mouthing something Whirl couldn't understand against his helm.

Except, he sort of could understand it. Not the words themselves, since he'd spent exactly zero time studying old Cybertronian, but the meaning behind the words: _Precious, loved, ours._

Oh shit.

Ohhhhh shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whirl talks to a lot of people, and doesn't believe a one of them.

_Shit. Slag. Fuck. What do I-_

"Birdy?"

Whirl paused his spiraling to look up at the minibot who'd partially untangled himself from his frame and was now peering at him with obvious concern.

Tailgate was beautiful. 

Whirl had always thought he was cute, but in an aesthetic sort of way, like, he fit his preferences. Now, with the bright blue of his visor still shining with residual moisture, and several points of contact between them remaining, it was like he didn't just _look_ beautiful, he _felt_ beautiful.

Against his better judgment, Whirl turned to look at Cyclonus, who had relaxed and was laying spread out on the berth with a lazy smile. They locked optics, and Whirl almost choked out a mangled form of the jet's name before he caught himself.

His spark sang to see the physical manifestations of its partners.

He didn't realize he was moving until he'd thudded to the ground, leg pinned awkwardly.

"Whirl!" Tailgate cried.

Righting himself, Whirl held his claws out as an improvised shield.

"I uh- I have to-"

He somehow made it to the door and out into the hall without falling over, and in the background he could hear Tailgate's worried exclamations, and Cyclonus soothing tones as the door shut behind him.

* * *

Whirl got drunk.

Well, first he went on an ill-advised flight outside of the ship and almost ran into some space rocks. Then he found some poor fraggers in the gym and tried to challenge them to a fight. (Aftholes wouldn't go for it.) Then he turned off his comms which kept beeping. _Then_ he got absolutely offline-drunk in a dark corner of the ship.

"They're going to be so mad." he mumbled to himself, helm propped up against the wall, "They're never going to talk to me again. All they wanted was a quick merge and then I had to go and…"

And the worst part of it was, he could feel them, just slightly. Their presence in the back of his spark that had started out as sort of hazy and pleasant right after they'd woken up, had turned to something heavy as the day went on. They must have realized, and it was making them feel miserable.

Letting his last bottle of engex roll out of his claw to the floor, Whirl stood carefully. His processor throbbed.

"Gotta get Ratchet. He'll know how to fix it."

* * *

He didn't know what time it was when he stumbled into the medbay, but luckily Ratchet was there organizing some supplies. Without any preamble, Whirl staggered over to a berth and flung himself down on it.

"I need surgery."

"That's not how you fix a bender." Ratchet dead-panned, not looking up from what he was doing.

"I mean it, Doc. I need surgery on my spark."

That, at least, caused the medic to pause. "Explain."

_I'd rather not._

But, there was no way around it, so Whirl did. By the end of the story, Ratchet looked like he was going to blow a gasket. Wiping a servo down his face, he steadied himself on the cabinet next to him.

"Why, oh why does no one on this ship know anything about relationships?" he muttered.

From the other room, someone, (First Aid?) laughed, a loud barking thing that had Ratchet's helm snapping up.

"Shut up, you!" Ratchet yelled, "This is different!" 

The doctor took a long, settling exvent, and turned back to Whirl.

"What you're describing is impossible."

"Uh, I was right there."

"Bonding against someone's will is impossible, unless you had access to some really dark reprogramming stuff, which I _assume_ none of you did?"

Whirl wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but just the idea made him feel sick, and he reared back at the implication.

"No! Pits, no, that's…" he sighed. "But I've merged with lots of mechs before and nothing even remotely like this happened."

Ratchet cycled his optics, and spoke slowly, like he was explaining something to a newspark. Which, the more that Whirl thought about it, why wasn't this stuff taught to newsparks?

"Surface level merging is just about the sensations, the electrical stimulation. And it stays that way unless the mechs involved, A, want it to be more, and B, are compatible enough for it to stick."

Whirl narrowed his optic at him.

"Sounds fake."

"Get out of my medbay."

* * *

Whirl slumped down the hall towards his hab.

It didn't make any sense.

There was no way they'd actually meant to bond to him, no matter what the doctor said. And even if there was "compatibility," even if they "wanted it," that didn't mean they'd made a _good_ decision. Whirl would just have to let them know it was an interesting idea, but it wasn't going to work out, and they could all go their merry way. No harm done.

Reconsidering, (and no, it had nothing to do with where certain habs were in relation to each other) Whirl wandered back to the bar to refuel and maybe get into some nonsense. He'd barely got through the door though, when a small frame ran up to him.

"Wh- Swerve?"

"Oh buddy, I was hoping you'd be here sooner or later, come on."

"Uh, ok…"

Whirl allowed him to grab his claw and pull him over to one of the booths. With a start, he realized they were the only ones in the room.

Swerve slid into the booth and leaned forward, a typically earnest look on his face.

"Are you ok, Whirl?"

Ah slag. 

"Uhhhhhhh why? What have you heard?" 

"Look," the minibot glanced around, "I just want you to know that I'm on your side, ok? They shouldn't have done that without your consent. Tailgate told me everything, and he felt really bad about it, but still, it was wrong, so if you need me to talk to Magnus I can-"

"No!"

"There's no shame in it! You don't have to feel-"

"Swerve, shut up!"

"If you didn't want-"

"I did want it!"

"Oh."

With a frustrated growl, Whirl jerked up from the seat, kicking a couple of bottles still left on the floor. It felt good, so he kicked a couple more as he headed towards the door. Vaguely he heard Swerve scrambling to his pedes and taking an aborted step after him. 

Stupid. 

Meddlesome.

No one gets it!

"Hey, Whirl!"

He studiously ignored him.

"They wanted it too!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've got me.

"You know what? Fine!" Whirl grumbled to himself as he made his way back to the residential secton of the Lost Light.

"I'm just gonna go talk some sense into them! No avoiding it!"

He stomped down the hall, uncaring of the racket he was making or the calls from inside some of the habs to "Keep it down!" Too soon, he reached Cyclonus' and Tailgate's room.

Using both claws he reached up with every intention of banging loudly on the door, but it slid open for him automatically. He froze for a moment, and tried not to think too much about the fact that they'd apparently added him as someone who didn't need permission to come in.

As he stepped in, Whirl looked around and realized they were on the berth, recharging, arms wrapped tightly around each other. They looked peaceful, but Whirl could sense vaguely the conflicted feelings rolling around in their sparks.

Suddenly the fight left him.

As quietly as he could, he sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall.

_What now…_

After a few long moments of simply listening to their soft venting, he pulled up the text log of all of the comms he'd been avoiding all day. There were a couple from Swerve, one from Rung, one from Cyclonus, and about ten from Tailgate.

**Tailgate: Whirl are you ok!? Did we hurt you? Please come back, or go to the medbay, or something, please!**

Ten minutes later:

**Tailgate: I'm so sorry we didn't explain things better, we thought- well, it doesn't matter what we thought…**

The rest were similar, and then the last two:

**Cyclonus: If it is simply that you're not ready, then please understand that even unbonded we would still want you in our lives, if you would have us. We can have the process reversed. If that is not the case, if we have wronged you, then we submit ourselves to whatever punishment you deem appropriate.**

**Tailgate: We miss you.**

"…Whirl?"

Tailgate was sitting up in the berth, blue visor glowing dimly. He prodded Cyclonus gently and murmured something to him, and the jet's optics cycled open. The three mechs stared at each other for several kliks.

With a sigh, Whirl stood and moved slowly over to the berth. Silently, he climbed up and settled himself between them, arranging limbs and shifting around until he had them the way he wanted.

"I'm not mad," he whispered, "But I am exhausted, so lets talk about this in the morning."

He felt Tailgate nodding against his shoulder, and before too long, he fell asleep to the warmth and sounds of their quietly turning systems.

* * *

It seemed like it was days later that Whirl finally woke up. He stretched as much as he could with the weight of two other mechs on him, but didn't put too much effort into dislodging them. Cautiously, he felt for their sparks. There was still worry there, but an underlying current of hope too.

"You guys awake?"

They answered immediately with two "yes." Whirl rolled his optic.

"Did you sleep at all after I came in?"

"…a little." Tailgate admitted, at the same time Cyclonus responded in the negative.

Sitting up and turning around so he could see both of them, Whirl put on his best unimpressed expression.

"Did you not hear the part where I said I wasn't mad?" he asked, pointedly, and before Tailgate could answer, he held up a claw. "Here's what's going to happen. You're each going to tell me why you wanted to bond with me. Go."

Tailgate started of course, speaking quickly as if he thought it was a timed exercise.

"So we can wake up next to you, take care of you, spend lots of time together, and-" He nudged Cyclonus with a small elbow.

The jet nodded, "We wanted to make a commitment to you, a symbol of our love and devotion, a promise to be with you as long as you will allow it."

_A family._

Their fields burned with sincerity.

It finally hit him that they had known exactly what they were doing, and Whirl felt his helm heating from the spark-felt explanations and the rapidly cycling memories of the previous night. In his processor's optic, he saw them again in that vague place, holding their servos out to him, only this time he could hear what they were saying.

_"May we keep you?"_

_"Stay with us, Birdy."_

And he heard his own voice responding.

"Yes."

The two exchanged comically choreographed glances before turning back to him. Tailgate looked like he was about to burst.

"Are you sure, Whirl!?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure. You're stuck with me."

Whirl found himself with a lap full of minibot before he could finish the sentence, and then somehow they were both pulled securely against Cyclonus' chest and had a mesh pulled up over them in less than a klik.

Tailgate laughed joyfully, "What are you doing, Cyc?"

"Picking up where we left off. I plan to enjoy a morning in with my bonded."

They lay there for a little while, talking quietly and cuddling, until something occured to Whirl.

"Or we could try the merge again." he suggested.

He'd never seen them move so quickly outside of a fight, and Whirl laughed as Cyclonus whipped the mesh off of them and Tailgate pulled excitedly on his chest plate.

Ok, yeah, he could work with this.


End file.
